cleaning

This morning, Nate left for the gym at about 6:38 am (I know!). At approximately 6:41 am, Natalie came downstairs, stood by my face and puked on my bedroom floor.

First, why do they always wait until right after their dad leaves? Is it possible to wake him up via the sound of retching or vomit impacting the floor just once? It is truly a life experience that one can not fully appreciate until they witness it first hand.

Second, why do they have to come all….the….way….downstairs to puke in my bathroom? They never make it. NEVER. They have a bathroom upstairs. They pass it on the way to my bathroom. It isn’t like there are magical healing properties in my toilet. It doesn’t bleed tears, or miraculously bear the face of Jesus. It isn’t rumored to contain the Arc of the Covenant or the Holy Grail. But you would think the stinking thing was a famed healing spring they way they flock to it. It is just a twenty year old toilet in a cramped closet. Literally.

Inevitably, they don’t make it. On good days, like today, they last until they get to my bedroom. It is hard wood, though, so no big deal. On bad days, they don’t make it down the steps. They steps are carpet – carpet that was probably installed before I was born. I am pretty sure the only spots that have ever been cleaned are the parts unfortunate enough to know sickness. 

Let’s not talk about my upstairs carpet anymore…

Third, why is it that there is always a friend here the day before anyone pukes? Their immune systems seem to go on strike once they find out that other people will be spending a day/night with us. They acquire the stealthiest rapid spreading virus they can and surreptitiously infect all of our friends. There isn’t even the faintest of whispers that something is afoot until – BAM – puke on the floor at 6:42 am.

It is shameful the amount of times that I have had to call one family in particularly. I am blessed that my kids’ best friends come from the same good folks. (They are adorbs!) Friendships like those are rare blessings and we cling to them and nurture them. We don’t infect them with nondescript viruses. Especially viruses that are gross. (I am so sorry, again, friends)

Fourth, IT IS SUMMER!!! I expect to douse the house in Clorox and Lysol during the winter, diligently waging war against infectious pathogens bent on compromising the health and well-being of my flesh and blood. But in summer!? We aren’t even in school. We have been nearly recluse since gas jumped up to four dollars a gallon. Where are these germs even coming from? It is like Ms. Frizzle shrank the Magic School Bus and invaded my kid’s stomach via her cheese quesadilla, only my kid’s immune system didn’t get the memo. Gah.

Actually, knowing my daughter, she probably just ate some random food item she hoarded away three months ago and just discovered yesterday hidden in the bottom of her dress up bin with some broken crayons, paint chips, Rainbow Dash, and half eaten Chapstick complete with bite marks.

That is just how she rolls.